


the music that you like is all off-key

by the_dala



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: First Date, M/M, Team as Family, Unrequited Love, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dala/pseuds/the_dala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim hatches a Valentine's Day plot to seduce Bones for the first time. It doesn't go quite as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the music that you like is all off-key

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sweethearts Challenge at jim_and_bones on LJ. Title from "Sesame Street," originally embodied by a Grouch of a different color :)
> 
> Archiving my old Star Trek fic from LiveJournal - this was originally published February 13th, 2011

 

 

It started with a note.

The handwriting was Chapel’s, all loops and whorls and calligraphic flourishes, worlds removed from the untidy scrawl she reserved for work. Uhura was the one who’d come up with the riddle itself. It was the first turn in a labyrinth dreamed up by the nosiest, most over-invested senior crew in the entire Fleet. She had used all her linguist’s skills in English and Latin for the cryptograms, Spock had contributed some of his favorite Vulcan children’s logic puzzles, and Chekov had helped Scotty design several ingenious little puzzle boxes that were sure to go to Joanna once they had played their part. It was, after all, her love of puzzles and scavenger hunts that had served as an inspiration for the master plan.

Gaila had reined in her own flashy tastes to transform Rec Room 8 into the closest approximation of a cosy French bistro that could be had on a working starship. The atmosphere didn’t exactly match the food waiting in makeshift chafing dishes, but Sulu had taken charge of the kitchen and insisted on attempting a traditional American Southern menu for the occasion. Judging by the smell, he’d done his restaurateur uncle proud.

A great deal of research, scheming, and planning had gone into this evening. And okay, some ridiculousness too. That was probably inevitable considering the whole thing was hatched at a beta shift poker night. Jim had lost first a week’s worth of water rations and then his dignity when his bridge crew informed him that yes, the entire ship knew that he was madly in love with his oblivious best friend and no, they didn‘t think Bones would request immediate transfer at the mere thought of Jim‘s lips coming anywhere near his person.

But the collective enthusiasm for Operation Jim Loves Leo But They Could Both Use a Swift Kick In the Arse (the name being a joint effort between Uhura and Scotty) had been kind of a nice surprise. He’d never had the kind of friends who would forego their own Valentine’s Day plans just to help him grow a pair. And now every detail had been taken care of, every whimsical note was transcribed, every co-conspirator was in place - all that was left for Jim to do was show up. He was touched and grateful and he was going to make sure his crew knew just how much their efforts were appreciated.

He just wished Bones had shown up, too.

After twenty-five minutes in which Jim could practically hear the flurry of concern winging its way over the shipwide network, he finally got a comm message. Spock’s voice was cool and measured as always, but Jim thought he could detect a note of sympathy behind it. He folded his napkin over his empty plate and blew out the candles.

Bones was in his quarters, alone, just as Spock had said. The crisp cream envelope with _Open me_ written in green ink was still sitting on his desk, untouched and unnoticed. Bones’ boots had been kicked off in front of the door and Jim nearly tripped over them in the dim light. Bones himself was sprawled across his bed with a mostly empty bottle of whiskey clutched in one clammy, shaking hand. Jim had seen him this drunk, but not in a long while and never in such a short span of time.

It seemed he’d taken two transmissions from Earth that day. The first was a tense, terse conversation with his ex-wife. She was marrying Clay Treadway - the bastard she’d cheated with, the man he’d once called his best friend. “Congratulations” wasn’t the first word that leapt to mind.

Then Joanna had called in tears half an hour before his shift ended. Some cruel little friend of hers had spread gossip about exactly how her parents‘ marriage had come to an end. Joanna declared she was never speaking to her mama again and couldn’t she please come live with her daddy in space? When he tried to explain Starfleet regs, console her, and remain diplomatic all at the same time, she’d sobbed that she hated him too, then, and terminated the connection.

Jim took the bottle away, coaxed him out of his rumpled uniform, eased him into bed, laid out a glass of water and a hypo on the nightstand.

“You want me to stay?”

Bones closed his eyes. “No,” he said in a cracked, worn-down voice that made Jim‘s arms feel heavy with the weight of wanting to hold him close. “Just wanna be alone.”

“Okay,” he said, swallowing down a stab of hurt at the words. He pulled the quilt up over Bones’ shoulder. “Get some rest, okay? Take tomorrow off if you need to.” Bones nodded -- though they both knew he wouldn’t -- and turned his face into the pillow.

Jim plucked the envelope off the desk as he passed.

“Hey.”

He froze, thinking for a wild second that he’d been caught out in his stupid, selfish, thoughtless plan after all.

Bones looked and sounded mostly asleep already. “Thanks,” he said after a moment, blinking up at Jim with eyes gone dark with grief and exhaustion. “For bein’ here.”

“Any time, Bones,” Jim said, keeping up a smile until Bones settled back down, his face going slack at once.

He bent over his terminal as soon as he got back to his own quarters.

_Operation aborted. Thanks anyway, guys. Sorry for the trouble._

He’d forgotten about the wine chilling by the door, the bright cheerful pillows on the sofa, the petals scattered over the bed. Right. This was the one part of the plan he’d insisted on handling personally. At least he hadn’t been so crass as to leave the lube out in plain sight.

Suddenly Jim was very, very tired.

He stripped off the blue button-down he’d bought his first week in San Francisco and the soft gray pants that Gaila claimed made his ass look extra squeezable. Instead of dumping them in a pile on the floor like he was tempted to do, he hung them carefully in the closet. Then he pulled on a pair of sweats, rolled the coverlet up, and stuffed it under the bed.

The room still smelled like roses in the morning.

 

 

Jim was going over the latest engineering reports in his ready room when the door chimed. “Computer, admit visitor,” he muttered, distracted by some of his chief engineer’s more creative recommendations for improving warp function. They were definitely going to have to talk this over before it got anywhere near an admiral’s desk.

“Happy Do a Grouch a Favor Day.”

Bones was standing in front of him with a bunch of white flowers and an apprehensive expression.

Jim peered at him over his reading glasses. “There is no way that’s a real holiday.”

“Apparently it was celebrated in the 21st century,” Bones said with a crooked grin that did little to ease the tension on his face. “Not very widely, but it's real enough.”

Sitting back in his chair, Jim caught a whiff of the flowers’ perfume. It seemed so familiar - brought to mind late spring days before the heat settled over the fields, when he could taste summer on the wind and shed his jacket on the way home from school…

“Is that honeysuckle?”

Bones’ face turned a little pink. His fingers flexed on the stems. “Yeah, Sulu kinda had a limited selection in the greenhouse, with Valentine’s and all.” Despite his obvious nerves, he looked Jim dead in the eye. “He was particularly short on orange roses.”

It was Jim’s turn to offer a crooked smile. “Subtlety was never my strong suit.”

Bones pursed his lips, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Jim, I -”

“Don’t worry about it, Bones.” Jim wanted to wince at the false cheer in his own voice. He played that game with other people all the time, but never with Bones. He cast his gaze downward so he wouldn’t see the relief in Bones’ eyes, wishing he had actual papers to shuffle. “Just a prank that got carried away. Have to come up with some way to make Valentine’s Day remotely interesting.”

The honeysuckle bunch slapped down in front of his padd, releasing a sweet cloud of scent. Jim had just enough time to notice it was tied with a blue ribbon before he was being hauled forward by both arms.

“You’re an idiot,” Bones whispered, leaning down until his breath brushed Jim’s cheek. His eyes were fixed on Jim’s mouth, probably because it was hanging open like a trout‘s. Then his hands were tightening on Jim’s biceps and he was dipping his chin and kissing Jim like it was the last kiss he was ever going to get and he was damned sure going to make it count.

He made it around the desk at some point, or maybe over it. Either way he ended up perched on the edge with Bones between his legs, his arms wrapped around broad shoulders, hips shifting in an effort to get impossibly closer.

Bones kissed him again, a softer, more careful kiss than the ones that came before it. Jim made a noise of protest when he drew back and he let out a low chuckle.

“Breathe, darlin’.”

Yeah, his breathing wasn’t going to calm down any with Bones talking to him like that. Jim pressed his lips to the corner of Bones’ jaw, intrigued by the patch of soft skin he found there. “So who cracked?” he murmured against Bones’ earlobe.

“Nyota.”

“Figures.” Actually, he was surprised any of them had lasted this long.

Bones tipped his head back, letting Jim kiss his neck where his pulse was jumping erratically. Hypocrite.

“I never was very good at Valentine’s Day,” he remarked wryly, long fingers skimming up Jim’s ribs.

Jim shrugged, hooking his ankles behind Bones’ calves to pull him close again. “Well, I think I’m getting the hang of Do a Grouch a Favor Day.”

Bones lifted a brow, hazel eyes giving off a spark of mischief that Jim was determined to see more often. “Favor, my ass. Way I see it, I‘ve been doing all the-”

Never one to refuse a challenge, Jim yanked him down on the desk and kissed the smirk right off his face.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Yes, that's a real holiday celebrated on February 16th. Orange roses express passion and desire. Honeysuckle is symbolic of devotion and love.


End file.
